Bucket List
by Sela McGrane
Summary: A chronicle of Hermione's Granger's Bucket List, and how fate determined that the Slytherin was bound to butt heads, and later fall in love with the one and only Minerva McGongall - Head of her rival house. Slytherin!Hermione, HG/MM, Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**I promise, I'm not quitting the Lost Founder Series. I just have a bit of writer's block on it at the moment, greatly due to how _heavy_ the content is as the war picks up. I was in the mood to write something more light in mood, and this is what started to spill out. I will try to finish it with one or two more installments, but as my primary focus is to get back to work on Seeking Time, I make no promise as to when this will happen. I will *cough* say that reviews are highly inspiring to me, so if you want to see more of this story sooner rather than later, do let me know! **

* * *

**1\. Go to Hogwarts and find a way to fit in.**

Hermione Granger, nearly twelve years of age, had only been at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for a matter of hours. That said, she'd already learned that her Head of House, Severus Snape, was generally not considered to be a kind man, even to his Slytherins. This was why she was sitting in his office presently, staring at him with wide eyes. "Say again?" she breathed, stunned at what he was saying.

"Miss Granger, as it stands, only myself, the Headmaster, and the Deputy are aware of your parentage. It is most unusual that a muggleborn witch or wizard is sorted to Slytherin. It hasn't happened in over a hundred years, as a matter of fact. Given the political climate at the moment, your blood status could put you at risk within your own house, and thereby I am offering to claim you as my daughter, to spare you the ridicule you'd surely face otherwise. I will claim that you are a product of my coupling with a muggle woman, with whom I was not further involved after the fact. You would simply need to claim that your muggle father is actually your step-father, and in conjunction with my claim of you, your blood status would be listed as half-blood. While not favorable, it is acceptable, and will give you no reason to hide your knowledge and appreciation of the muggle world, and yet offer you some protection. Having you claim to be my daughter will offer you further protection given that any member of Slytherin House would know it rather foolish to cause harm to their Head of House's child."

"You're completely serious, aren't you?" Hermione concluded. She was shocked he'd offer, but having read half the textbooks in full before she'd arrived here, she was well aware that a muggleborn in Slytherin was likely to be bullied, or worse. While she hated to lie, she also didn't want to get shoved down a flight of stairs.

Snape nodded. "Given that I have no living family to dispute the claim, I make an ideal candidate for this arrangement. I am also the only fully human male on staff that is the appropriate age."

"Professor Quirrell seems to be close to your age," Hermione countered, going over the Hogwarts staff in her mind.

"I'll be surprised if he lasts a single year at Hogwarts," Snape replied curtly. "And as you will be here for seven, that will do you no good. Further, I do not trust him, and as your Head of House, you are my responsibility in any case. Now, Miss Granger, do you agree to this arrangement or would you prefer to disclose to your fellow Slytherins that you are what most of them consider to be unworthy to own a wand?"

Hermione sighed. "I'll agree to your plan. Given that you are supposedly my father, am I to address you as such?"

"Outside of class only," he agreed. "Even if you _were_ my daughter, you'd be required to address me formally in class. I will not show favoritism."

"I understand," she said. "Anything else?"

"I suppose for good show you might join me for supper in my quarters now and then," Snape suggested. "Perhaps on Saturday evenings?"

"That sounds good," Hermione replied, thinking that perhaps when things were more settled, she could take advantage of Professor Snape's _father_ role in her life, and get him to work with her on more advanced Potions. She hadn't even had her first Potions class yet, but she had the first year textbook memorized. None of it seemed very difficult, and she did like to be challenged.

* * *

 **2\. Make friends in each House.**

Snape had been giving Hermione lessons on pureblood behavior since term began, and he'd finally taught her something that she thought would help her make friends. Within her own House, she'd become friendly with Draco Malfoy, and with her dormmate Pansy Parkinson. Both Slytherins were pureblood as they came, though they seemed not to mind her diluted blood. Hermione knew it would be a different story if they knew she was muggleborn rather than half-blood, and while that hurt, she appreciated the budding friendships with her Housemates all the same. Now, she just needed to make friends with other Houses.

Within weeks of term starting, she'd managed to get friendly with a couple of Hufflepuffs, Oscar and Natalie, who appreciated her hard working nature, and with a Ravenclaw, Paul, whom she'd met via an argument over which of them would be able to read the newly released Charms book that the Library had just acquired. Hermione, true to her Slytherin nature, had agreed to let Paul read it first, on condition that she could call in a favor some time in the future. Paul agreed, and she was still sitting on an _I owe you_.

Gryffindors were harder. The rivalry between them and Slytherin House was legendary, and members of either would be hard pressed to speak to the other if not with the inclusion of insults and hexes. Hermione, however, had an unusual trump card that she could use to at least get a Gryffindor to _consider_ speaking to her, and she intended to use it on Harry Potter. Given his fame, if she became friendly with _him_ , in theory the rest of Gryffindor House might be inclined to lessen the rivalry.

"Potter," Hermione called after Transfiguration class, signaling him to wait before exiting.

He came over warily, and Hermione knew the only reason he'd not ignored her outright was because his own Head of House was still standing at the front of the room, watching the scene play out with interest.

"What's up, Granger?" he asked.

"I have a proposition for you," she said. "I'd like to be your friend."

Harry's jaw dropped. "You _do_ know I'm a Gryffindor, right?"

Hermione shrugged. "I nearly was as well. The Sorting Hat thought that, while I'd have done well in Gryffindor, that'd I'd do better with the challenges that being in Slytherin would present me. Had I gone to Gryffindor instead, you and I might already _be_ friends."

"I don't know…" Harry said skeptically. "Your father hates me."

"I'm not my father," Hermione countered. "And anyway, animosity between Houses is what led to the war against the Dark Lord - the reason your parents are dead. I think that if we, our generation, promotes unity between houses and people of different blood statuses, it might prevent a future war. Wouldn't that be a great way to honor your parents' memory?"

Harry looked intrigued now. "Maybe," he said. "I guess I'd be willing to give it a go. Worst case, we don't get along and that's that. And really, the fact that we're even talking is a bit Gryffindor of you. No offense."

"None taken," Hermione replied with a bright smile. "I'm not saying it will be easy, but I think in the long run, it'll be worth it. We can influence others - I can work on Draco and Pansy's tendency to automatically loathe anything not pureblood, and you can work on Weasley and Longbottom and their tendency to assume all Slytherins are going to grow up to be Dark Witches and Wizards."

"Might take awhile," Harry commented.

"We have nearly seven years," she countered.

The dark haired boy cracked a smile. "I'm in."

"Thanks, Potter."

"Harry," he corrected. "And thank you, Hermione."

Knowing it was too soon for them to be seen smiling as they walked side by side, she nodded at him to leave first, and resolved to wait a minute before following.

"Miss Granger?"

Professor McGonagall, whom Hermione had nearly forgotten was standing there, was approaching her position near the door to the classroom. "Yes, Professor?"

"Twenty points to Slytherin, for promoting House unity," the older witch said, smiling. "I've heard you've become friendly with some Hufflepuffs and a Ravenclaw, but I didn't think you'd have the nerve to have a go at collecting a Gryffindor. You were smart to go for Mister Potter first - he's a very open minded and accepting young man."

"That was the impression I got as well, Professor," Hermione replied. "The way I see it, if someone has the power to effect change, they have the responsibility to do so. I am a muggle-born in Slytherin, as you know. While Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws tend to get along well enough, Slytherins are usually at the head of a conflict. If Slytherins were friendly with other Houses, I think that perhaps they'd be less inclined to cast blanket judgments. I know I'm a child but childhood is when people are most impressionable. Change has to start with us. When we grow up, perhaps we will all be able to work together for a better, united future."

"You are a wise young lady," McGonagall praised. "If you require any assistance in your endeavor, I'd be happy to help."

Hermione looked slyly at the Deputy. "Well, it wouldn't hurt if you and Professor Snape were seen talking to each other in a friendly manner. Show your Gryffindors it's okay to be friendly with Slytherins."

McGonagall laughed. "I suppose you'll be wanting me to pass that thought onto Professors Sprout and Flitwick as well?"

The young Slytherin smirked. "You're the one who offered to help."

"Indeed I was," McGonagall agreed.

* * *

 **3\. Pull off a prank that furthers goal of House unity.**

Hermione had been planning this for months. The idea had come to her only a week into second year, when she'd been reading a Charms book she'd gotten over the summer holiday. It was rather advanced knowledge, but she'd practiced the charm she'd need and had managed it after only two attempts. No, the charm was actually pretty easy, but on a mass scale, triggering at the same time for each instance… that was the tricky part. Hours and hours of research later, she'd finally found a spell used to transport mass casualties in the case of emergency. It was perfect for what she was planning.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione turned around to see Professor McGonagall looking curiously at her. While she liked the Gryffindor Head of House well enough, Hermione was more than aware of the fact that McGonagall liked her less and less with each prank she and her friends pulled off. Harry, Ron, Neville, Oscar, Natalie, Paul, Draco, and Pansy often took part in Hermione's pranks, and as McGonagall put it - ' _Large scale pranking was not what I had in mind when I agreed to help you promote House unity.'_ In Hermione's opinion, teens wreaking havoc together had become an invaluable tool in her efforts to get Slytherins included in groups of friends from other houses. Draco and Pansy, while hesitant to be seen with those of less than pure blood, were happy to set aside that prejudice in favor of helping to plan Hermione's first prank, mid way through their first year, which had resulted in each member of the staff being charmed to only be able to talk in rhyme for half a day. Hermione still giggled when she thought of McGonagall's effort to confront her on the matter.

' _I may not have proof but I know without doubt,_

 _It was you and your friends who brought this about._

 _Detention, Miss Granger, each Friday night hence,_

 _Till you are prepared to bend knee and confess.'_

Professor Snape had gotten her out of the indefinite detentions, citing that McGonagall truly did not have any proof that Hermione had been responsible, and as such could not punish her. McGonagall had refused to reward her any points for the rest of the year, but Hermione thought it had been worth it.

"Yes, Professor McGonagall?" Hermione asked with a smirk.

"I know that look, Miss Granger," the Deputy Head accused, frowning. "Whatever it is that you are getting ready to do, I implore you _not_ to do."

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know what you're talking about, Professor."

"I'm rather sure you do," McGonagall grumbled. "And I also expect that I will be unable to find evidence that you are responsible for it, and more the shame for that. With your intellect, it's a shame you insist on wasting your time and effort on _pranks_."

The second year just smiled at her. "If I _were_ responsible for any pranks, which I am certainly not admitting to, then I imagine I'd hold the belief that it's better to tie people together, people from different Houses and walks of life, with memories of fun than memories of helping one another with homework."

"There are other ways to have fun than pranking," the older witch argued.

"Perhaps that's true," the younger conceded. "But, if I were pulling off any pranks, I think that I'd enjoy combining fun with the intellectual exercise that comes along with planning one."

McGonagall sighed. "I am suddenly quite glad you were not sorted to Gryffindor. I don't know how Professor Snape puts up with you."

"You'd have to ask him," Hermione shrugged, trying to appear as though McGonagall's comment had not been hurtful. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Professor, I'd like to get to the Great Hall for lunch."

McGonagall nodded curtly, and Hermione bounded off, stopping off at each other table before taking her seat at the Slytherin one. She leaned over to Draco and Pansy, telling them the same thing she'd just told Harry, Ron, Neville, Oscar, Natalie, and Paul. "Prank impending. Go with it."

Draco grinned. "How pissed is McGonagall going to be _this time_?"

Pansy laughed. "If I didn't know any better, 'Mione, I'd think you do all these pranks just to get her attention. She's always the first reaction you look for."

"I couldn't care less what she thinks of me," Hermione stated. It was a lie, but lies were told for reasons. Besides, she couldn't explain it to herself, so how could she explain it to her friends, that she felt this odd draw to the woman who seemed to like her less and less as time went on. A part of her wanted to stop pranking so McGonagall wouldn't be so cross with her all the time, but she was afraid that without the pranks, McGonagall wouldn't notice her at all, and that was not alright with Hermione Granger.

Ten minutes later, the whole of the student and staff body was seated and waiting for the Headmaster to issue the order for food to be served. Hermione watched him carefully - timing would be everything - and as soon as his hand waved and food began popping onto the tables, Hermione whispered under her breath: " _Portus magnus_."

In an instant, staff and students alike were transported into different seats. No student from any one house sat next to someone of the same house, though they did seem to be mostly clumped by age group, with the exception of the Professors. Where once Hermione's friends were scattered across the Great Hall, now all nine of them, including herself, were sitting at the end of what used to be an all Ravenclaw table. Hermione, unable to help herself, glanced around the room and spotted McGonagall sitting between Luna Lovegood and Percy Weasley, and opposite her was Blaise Zabini and Ernie Macmillan, along with Professor Snape.

McGonagall's gaze met Hermione's, and the older witch glared. She looked about ready to get up and outright hex Hermione, though the second year was saved by the Headmaster, who was now seated with Madam Hooch, Ginny Weasley, Gregory Goyle, and Susan Bones. "Well isn't this a splendid change!" his jovial voice carried over the hall. "I trust that each of us might make a new friend as a result of this unexpectedly altered seating arrangement."

Hermione hoped as much. The reason this prank had taken so long to put together was because she'd been carefully gathering a personality profile for each person in the castle, student and teacher alike, hoping to transport people next to others they genuinely had a chance of becoming friends with. It really bothered the second year that people seemed to just assume that if a person wasn't in their House, they were unlikely to find anything in common at all. That couldn't be further from the truth.

"You're a bloody genius, Hermione," Paul praised as he began filling his plate. "This one will go down in Hogwarts history."

"The idea is that the impact of the prank, people making friends outside their houses, will _change_ the course of history," Hermione stated. "The actual prank is just a tool to facilitate the possibility."

"Yo, 'Mione," Ron said, mouth half full. "You might want to not go anywhere alone for a few weeks. Pretty sure if looks could kill, McGonagall would be doing you in right now."

"I'm not worried about her," the Slytherin witch shrugged. "She doesn't really hate the prank. She just hates that she can't prove I'm responsible for it."

Harry laughed. "She just hates that you're smarter than her. I think she's used to being the smartest witch in any given situation, and you're just a kid and showing her up. Worse, you act like it's easy."

Neville shook his head. "Watch it Harry. 'Mione might be able to retreat behind Professor Snape, but we still have to deal with McGonagall. Being friends with her is not doing us any favors."

Hermione knew Neville was only teasing, so she teased right back. "Am I worth the trouble?"

"Yes!" the three Gryffindors agreed, getting the Slytherins, the Hufflepuffs, and the Ravenclaw to all crack up.

* * *

 **4\. Get Dad to stop hating Harry.**

Hermione entered Professor Snape's quarters on a Saturday evening, just as she had for every Saturday evening at Hogwarts, during the last year and a half. "Dad?" she called.

When Snape had first approached her about claiming to be his child and sparing her the ridicule of being a _mudblood_ in Slytherin, Hermione had expected him to be decent enough about it, but she'd never expected that the both of them would actually begin to relish in it. Snape had taken to being a father like a duck to water: fair but firm, not overly mushy about it, but still caring in his own way. She'd called him _Father_ at first, feeling odd to call someone other than John Granger _Dad_ , though at this point she just kind of accepted that she had two Dads. She certainly didn't love her real dad any less, but he was muggle, and she was not. Snape filled a parental role in the wizarding world which had made transitioning into life as a witch much easier.

She imagined that had she not had that support system from day one, she'd have probably taken ages to make any friends at all. She'd have remained the outcast she was in her muggle school, and probably criticized for her brains rather than praised. Hell, if she'd been sorted to Gryffindor, Harry, Ron, and Neville would probably have been her _only_ friends, and that would have been dependent on her finding the nerve to ask for friendship in the first place. Likely, they would have had to have done something ridiculous like fight a mountain troll together to bond them.

No, Hermione was glad to be a Slytherin. She'd grown more as a person in the last year and a half than she had in the previous twelve.

"Hermione, in the Den," Snape called from the adjoining room. "How was your week?"

"Tensions are pretty high with all the attacks on muggleborns," Hermione replied. "Honestly, I'm a bit worried that whoever is doing the attacking might learn the truth about me."

"Hopefully not," Snape replied. "I do not wish to lose you. You've been a surprisingly pleasant addition to my life."

"Thanks, Dad," Hermione laughed, rolling her eyes.

They chatted mostly about school work while they ate dinner, but after they were done Hermione decided to broach a subject that had really been bothering her. "Dad, why do you hate Harry so much?"

"Potter?" Snape asked, as if there was another _Harry_ she could possibly be talking about.

" _No_ , Houdini," she snarked teasingly. "Yes, Potter."

Snape sighed. "Long story short, he is the product of the woman I have loved all my life, and the man who bullied me all through Hogwarts. I admit to being rather bitter about their coupling."

"So you hate his parentage, I get that," Hermione said. "But Harry is not James, and he is not Lily either. He's his own person and deserves the chance to prove himself before you cast judgment based off your history with his dead parents. I mean seriously, Dad, your behavior towards him rather undermines my efforts to promote House unity."

Snape had the good graces to look thoroughly chastised. Hermione was well aware that she was probably the only person other than Dumbledore who could rebuke Snape and live to tell the tale, and the Headmaster tended to be more kind in his criticisms, according to the Potions Master. Alas, they were both Slytherin, as she'd told Snape once, and there was no need to mince words between them.

The dark haired man sighed. "Fair point. I will make an effort to see young Mister Potter for his own merits and failings. I am not promising to ever _like_ the boy, but for your sake and the sake of your blasted _plans_ , I will try to be at least civil with him. Why choose now to confront me about it, though?"

"He's got enough going on right now without you bullying him," Hermione replied. "He keeps saying he's hearing voices claiming to kill or attack, but none of the others have heard a thing. He worries people think him a liar, and while I do trust Harry, it does seem far fetched."

Snape frowned, and then got up and reached for a book on an upper shelf. "Hermione, have you done any research regarding petrification?"

She nodded, not following the change of direction in the conversation, but giving her mentor the benefit of doubt. "Yes, from what I can tell there are only a few means, and all of them are creatures. We've all assumed the Heir of Slytherin would be directly attacking muggleborns. Creatures that could petrify would be impossible to control."

"What is something that Potter and the founder of Slytherin House have in common?" he asked, snapping the book shut after browsing for only a few minutes.

Hermione thought for a minute, and as soon as she had the answer she understood the turn their conversation had taken. "A basilisk," she whispered. "Salazar Slytherin and Harry were both Parseltongues. There's a giant, bloody, killer snake in the school. But how on earth could it be getting around without being seen? I mean, it would be rather hard to miss."

"I'd be willing to bet that Potter has been hearing the voice from within the walls," Snape replied, reaching for his cloak. The pipes in this castle would be large enough to accommodate a basilisk. Please go directly back to the common room. If you see any students en route, tell them to return at once to dorms, and to pass the message along to anyone they see. I'm going to find the Headmaster. With luck, the danger to this school will be over by breakfast."

"Assuming you can even find it, how will you get into the Chamber of Secrets?" Hermione asked.

Snape paused, and then turned back and picked a vial off a dusty shelf. "Parselpotion," he explained. "It's dreadfully expensive and hard to brew - my own creation - but will make someone a Parselmouth for an hour. I keep it on hand because I have a few books in my personal library that one must be a Parselmouth to read, and I don't like having to stop researching to brew if I find need of one of those books."

Hermione nodded, "Good luck. Be safe, Dad."

"I will," he promised. "You be safe as well."

* * *

 **5\. Get McGonagall to lighten up.**

It had not been difficult to talk Snape into authorizing a Time Turner for Hermione. She would, of course, only be using it for studying and getting to all her classes. She had to keep a logbook of how many hours she redid, at her dad's request. He wasn't overly concerned about her using it for things she shouldn't, though he did say that war was likely to come sooner or later, and that every hour would count on her magical signature, adding to her age. The more she used the Time Turner, the quicker she'd come of age in the magical sense. Though her body would remain as though she'd not gained age, the laws pertaining to underage restriction were linked to her magical signature, and thus knowing precisely _when_ she'd magically come of age would be helpful if it came to all out war.

Thus far, she'd accumulated nearly two months worth of time added to her magical signature. It was only four months into term. The whole castle was on edge with the still at large Sirius Black, and Snape was no exception. She found his mood irritating of late, and thus didn't spend much of her spare time in the dungeons with him. McGonagall, who had nearly always been snappy with her, was more so than ever and Hermione decided she'd had quite enough of that. The woman needed to lighten up. The young Slytherin hadn't even been pranking much this year - with the troubles with Black Hermione knew her pranks might be interpreted as attacks from him, and she didn't want to add to the rising panic.

Over the last six weeks, Hermione had been using an hour here and an hour there - hours not recorded in her logbook for her dad - to follow McGonagall around, trying to get a grasp on her routine beyond her class schedule. After supper each day, the Gryffindor witch went to the Library and spent an hour doing research for whatever paper she happened to be working on. She usually checked one or two books out, and then she returned to her quarters. Thanks to Harry's invisibility cloak, Hermione was able to sneak into McGonagall's personal rooms behind the elder woman. She'd only done it five times, however, given how she was pretty sure that her Transfiguration Professor would murder first, ask questions later, should she catch the fourteen year old Slytherin.

Witnessing McGonagall behind closed doors had been enlightening for Hermione. The stern expressions eased away in the comfort of the older woman's quarters, allowing the younger to see a different side. The first thing McGonagall always did was mark any homework which she'd not gotten done during her breaks between classes that day. Hermione watched her groan over some, furiously scratch over others in red ink, and rarely, one would make her smile. She had a fourth expression, Hermione noted, that only came up when she came to one of Hermione's essays. First came a sigh of exasperation, then came a comment about _that bloody girl_ , and then to Hermione's surprise five times over, the expression that settled over McGonagall's features while she actually looked the work over was one that clearly spoke of mixed feelings. She'd subtly asked her Dad about it after the third time - obviously not telling him when she'd seen this expression - and according to him, McGonagall likely felt a certain level of respect toward _The-Girl-She-Half-Wishes-Had-Been-A-Gryffindor_ , but at the same time, was the sort of woman who only offered respect once there was equality, and she was likely confused as to how she was feeling such things for a student, who was decidedly not her equal.

The other unsettling thing that Hermione had discovered as she'd watched McGonagall was how beautiful the older witch was. She really didn't know how she hadn't noticed it before. Behind closed doors, the stern Professor would take off her outer robe to show a figure that was surprisingly athletic in build, though not lacking in curves. She tended to talk to herself, mimicking conversations she'd had with other staff members as they frequently asked her for things. "Minerva, can you cover my patrol tonight? Minerva, can you come down to the greenhouses later and transfigure some pots for me? Minerva, can you finish up that letter to the Board about next term's budget? Honestly Albus! All you had written down was _To Whom it May Concern_!"

Hermione giggled at the memory, as she brushed her teeth on a Saturday morning, ready to execute her plan for getting her Transfiguration Professor to relax. It was rather simple, really. All she needed was… time.

The other evening, when Hermione had most recently been secretly in McGonagall's quarters, she'd noticed a list of things that the older woman intended to do come Saturday. She'd even made notes as to what time of day she'd do them. So, Hermione decided that she was going to beat Minerva to the punch. She'd transfigure some pots for Professor Sprout first, and then on and on with the rest of the requests that her other teachers had made of the Gryffindor Head of House.

After McGonagall had gone to bed last night, Hermione had gone ahead and finished the letter the Headmaster had asked her to write to the Board of Governors, using a handy spell - _manum exemplum_ \- to go as far as to mimic McGonagall's penmanship. She'd learned that spell ages ago so she wouldn't get caught helping her various friends, mostly Ron, in doing their homework. The Deputy had already compiled all the information to be added to the missive, so it really had only been about two hours worth of work to organize it and put it into letter form.

Having repeated the hour between seven and eight in the morning six times to accomplish all of McGonagall's tasks for the day, Hermione headed down to breakfast after turning back for one final time. By this point, she was rather hungry.

"You look beat, Hermione," Draco commented when she took a seat beside him. "Did you not sleep well?"

"Just a rough morning thus far," she commented, filling her plate. "I slept enough, though maybe not as much as I should have. I may take a nap later."

"You look like you need it now," he said.

Hermione made a mental note to stop by the hospital wing after breakfast. She could get an Invigorating Draft from Madam Pomfrey, and that should get her by for the rest of the morning at least. She'd turned back enough already today, and didn't want to do so again if she could help it. She could nap after lunch, but she needed to execute phase two of her plans for today yet, before she could sleep. "I'll be fine," Hermione promised Draco.

"Morning Draco, Hermione," Pansy greeted with a smile. "Oh, hell, what are you up to 'Mione? I know that look."

"What look?" the curly haired brunette inquired, sounding bored.

"It's the 'I've keep glancing at McGonagall and I'm pretending I'm not' look. It usually means you're about to pull a prank," Pansy informed her dormmate.

"I'm not... _fine_ ," Hermione said, seeing Draco raise his eyebrow in a way that told her he was siding with Pansy. "It's a side project, nothing life altering or prank like."

"But it does have to do with McGonagall," Draco said pointedly.

"Yeah, what of it?"

Pansy smirked. "You're totally crushing on the Head of Gryffindor House."

"I am _not_!" Hermione yelped, startled by the accusation.

Okay, fine, maybe not that startled. It wasn't as though the concept hadn't crossed her mind the minute she'd caught herself thinking that her Transfiguration Professor was beautiful. Of course, she wasn't stupid enough to admit that to a couple of her fellow Slytherins. As much as she liked Draco and Pansy, she would not put it past either of them to use the information against her, should it suit them.

"If you say so," Harry Potter said, joining them at the Slytherin table to the annoyance of many of the upper year Gryffindors. Most of the third years and below were joining in Hermione's crusade for House unity, but there were fewer older students who could claim the same. "Though I'm with Pansy. You've totally got a thing for McGonagall."

"You're all daft," Hermione huffed. "And I have better things to do than listen to this insanity."

At that, she stood, and made her way out of the hall, smiling as she saw McGonagall leaving as well, obviously headed toward the Greenhouses. Hermione followed, keeping out of sight. The older witch did not seem surprised the task she'd been set to do was already finished - likely Professor Sprout had made a point to _thank her_ over breakfast. No, at this point McGonagall was playing _Sherlock Holmes_ , searching for clues as to how now two of her tasks for today were already done.

Hermione winced as her foot fell on a twig, alerting McGonagall that she wasn't alone. "Who's there?" the Professor demanded, wand drawn.

"Jumpy much?" the Slytherin drawled, trying to sound casual and hardly interested. Good lord, Draco Malfoy was rubbing off on her!

McGonagall relaxed. "Miss Granger. What are you doing down here? I was not under the impression that Herbology was a favorite subject of yours."

"I don't dislike it," she replied with a shrug. "Though Potions, Charms, and Transfiguration are where my passion is."

"I'm flattered," McGonagall offered with a roll of her eyes. "Not that you appreciating my subject makes you any better behaved in my class. A student correcting a _teacher_ , Merlin! Never in all my years of teaching have I had a student correct _me_. Not until you, and you do it all the time."

"I've only corrected you twelve times in the last three years," Hermione said. "I would know, I keep a tally. Of course, an average of four instances a year is hardly _all the time_."

"She keeps a tally…" McGonagall sighed. "Of course she does."

" _She_ is standing right here."

"So I've noticed. I don't suppose that _go away_ will actually inspire you to leave me alone, would it?"

"More likely to inspire me to stick around, actually," Hermione said, grinning wickedly. "Honestly Minerva, I would think you'd know me better than that by now."

The Scottish woman raised an eyebrow at the informal addressment. "I do not recall giving you permission to call me that."

"I don't recall you telling me I couldn't," Hermione countered.

"Ah, how remiss of me. You can't call me _Minerva_."

"Of course we know how often I actually listen to you," the younger witch said with a little sigh. "And _of course_ , now that you've specifically said I _can't_ , I'll obviously be calling you by your given name every chance I get."

"Oh bloody grand," McGonagall, or rather, _Minerva_ said. "I would give you detention, but I know you'll either get Severus to get you out of it, or you'll do your time and keep calling me by name anyway."

"That about sums it up," Hermione agreed. "Though if it makes you feel any less inclined to give me detentions all the time, I could compromise and only call you by name when we're alone. But that would be under the condition that you don't give me detentions for calling you by name outside of class."

"How very sporting of you, Miss Granger," Minerva sighed. "Fine, we have an accord."

"You might as well call me _Hermione_ ," the younger woman offered cheekily. "Since you're being so kind as to allow me to address you informally and all."

Minerva paused, considering before she replied to the young Slytherin. "I'm not sure what's wrong with you, _Hermione_ , but I bet it's hard to pronounce."

"I hardly think there's anything wrong with being one of a kind."

"Perhaps not," Minerva conceded. "And you are that."

Hermione smiled, knowing that at this point, her mark was primed for the punchline. "You should take advantage of the fact that you have nothing you have to do today, and relax," she commented.

"I have a _list_ of things to do, however much I'd love to be curled up by the lake, reading a book," Minerva groaned.

With an eye roll, the young Slytherin reached into her pocket and handed Minerva the very book she was in the middle of reading. "Your list is done. All of it. You looked like you needed a day off, so I arranged for you to have one."

For the first time in the history of their interactions, Minerva McGonagall was speechless. Hermione smirked, stood on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the older woman's cheek, and bounded off toward the Dungeons, hopeful for a nap before lunch.

* * *

 **As always, PLEASE REVIEW! I covet your thoughts!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I'm officially at the point of feeling guilty for not updating Seeking Time, but I hope that the continuation of Bucket List will appease you for the time being. With as much thinking as is involved my "Lost Founder" saga, it's nice to write something that doesn't involve a ton of deep plot. To be continued, hope you enjoy!**

 **UPDATE: I have no earthly idea how I skipped posting part 6 for this story, but I've just updated to INCLUDE part six. Effective 4/25/18**

* * *

 **6\. Save the Wizarding World.**

Hermione Granger, fourth year Slytherin, posted a notice on the general Hogwarts bulletin board. She and her friends had just finished with Christmas break, and it was on said break that Hermione had the idea for her latest House Unity project. She had stayed at the castle over the break, despite her parents' protests, knowing that Harry was remaining to keep away from his vile muggle relatives, and none of their other friends were remaining. Harry hadn't wanted to intrude on the Weasleys per his recent arguments with Ron about the Triwizard Tournament. They'd mostly made up from the initial argument but things were still a bit tense.

So, it had been Harry and Hermione against the puzzle that was how his name had ended up in the Goblet of Fire, and neither of them were making any headway on finding leads. Prior to the break, the Quad League (the name of their growing group of friends - now including six Slytherins, eight Gryffindors, seven Ravenclaws, and five Hufflepuffs - from all four houses and three different forms) had been trying to work out the problem together. Unfortunately, half the time they would have liked to be putting serious thought into the thing was being spent with teams of two following Harry around everywhere, making sure he wasn't attacked by some of those who were violently opposed to everything supporting Harry Potter. On the up side, the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang were not so subtly trying to keep Harry safe as well. The foreign students liked the Quad League. They represented everything the Triwizard Tournament did; unity in the midst of diversity.

"What on earth are you up to now, Miss Granger?"

Hermione started whistling cheerfully, ignoring the Transfiguration Professor behind her. Effective the beginning of term, she'd begun only acknowledging Minerva in private if Minerva called her by name. The older witch was struggling to recognize her attempts that a normal student and teacher relationship with Hermione was not going to fly for the fifteen year old.

"Miss Granger, all club formations must be cleared with the Headmaster," Minerva pressed. "As you are surely aware. I insist you remove that notice."

Hermione continued whistling as she pulled out her wand and cast some charms on the parchment to prevent anyone, including teachers, from removing her advert.

"Oh for the love of…!" Minerva grumbled. "Hermione, cease that at once."

Hermione turned around and offered a smile. "Oh, hello Minerva. Fancy seeing you here. I was just posting a notice of the formation of a Think Tank. It's open to students ages thirteen and up, including the visiting students."

"You need the Headmaster's approval," Minerva said again.

"Already got it," Hermione said, pointing at the man's signature at the bottom of the notice, which was right above both Headmaster Karkaroff and Headmistress Maxime's signatures. She'd covered all the bases.

Minerva frowned. "I see that now. Dare I wonder what you all plan to think about in this little group?"

"Oh, the group won't be little," the younger witch corrected. "The rest of the Quad League will join up right away, and I know of at least ten others from Hogwarts who will likely be interested, as well as a dozen or so from the other schools. I figured we'd start with trying to solve the mystery of how Harry's name got into the Goblet of Fire. You Professors don't seem to be making any headway to that end, so I figured we'd give it a shot."

"Your egotism astounds me," the Deputy Head remarked. "Or at least, it should."

"And your foul temperament astounds me," Hermione countered scathingly. She was in no mood for Minerva's attitude. She was too worried about Harry. "You should be pleased that I am doing something to protect the-boy-who-bloody-lived, especially as he's in your House."

Minerva looked ashamed of herself, and rightly so as far as Hermione was concerned. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know why but your… insolence seems to bring out the worst in me. I do think a Think Tank is a good idea. Truly. Most of your ideas are good ideas, in fact. Why do we argue like this, Hermione?"

"Because you were raised in a world where unity and peace between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin was simply not done," the younger witch theorized. "And you are a Gryffindor, and I am a Slytherin. Unlike you, I refuse to be party to such an archaic mindset."

"It's more than that, and you know it!" Mineva growled, losing her temper in frustration and shoving Hermione against the wall.

Hermione stood still, both of them breathing heavy as their bodies nearly touched. "Min…"

"Just stop!" Minerva croaked, stepping back. "Whatever you're doing to me, please just stop."

With that said, the Professor turned heel and left Hermione to cope with the fact that the physical contact had been highly arousing. Draco and Harry - Slytherin and Gryffindor - had been telling her for over a year that she was developing feelings for the Scottish witch. She had denied and denied, then admitted to a minor crush which would most certainly pass, and then claimed that the feelings were already gone by the end of their third year. Here, now, Hermione could claim an ability to deny a crush, but only because she'd realized she was in much bigger trouble than that.

She was falling in love with Minerva McGonagall.

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat, and forced those horrible thoughts into the back of her mind. She had to focus. Harry was in danger, and she had recruiting to do. This thing with Minerva? That could wait. It could wait until her death bed, for all she cared. She would not accept it, even if it was obvious, and especially if it was true. She could not accept it. Not now, not ever.

At seven that evening, the Think Tank had its first meeting, which included forty-nine participants. The week after, they had nearly twice that, and by week six, they had leveled out with one hundred and thirty-seven students between the ages of thirteen and nineteen. There were nineteen Slytherins, twenty-six Gryffindors, twenty-eight Ravenclaws, twenty-four Hufflepuffs, eighteen from Durmstrang, and twenty-two from Beauxbatons.

Week eight, they struck gold and solved the mystery. Harry's name had been put in the Goblet of Fire by the Death Eater Barty Crouch Jr, who had been using Polyjuice Potion and posing as Professor Moody. He'd made the Goblet choose Harry as a fourth Champion via listing him under a fourth school name - Ilvermorny, which he'd been able to do because Harry's mum was the child of a British muggle woman, and an American muggle man. As such, Harry had been accepted to Ilvermorny just as he'd been accepted to Hogwarts, though they'd never sent a letter because he'd been living in Britain when it had come time to begin the enrollment process. Further, via some Truth Potion that Hermione had gotten from her dad, they'd discovered from Crouch that he'd been planning to fix the final task so that Harry would win, and that the Goblet of Fire inside the maze was going to be a portkey to transport him to some graveyard over in Greater Hangleton, where Harry's blood would have been used to resurrect the Dark Wizard, Voldemort.

Of course, it was still months before the Third Task, and even Hermione knew that they needed to bring the Professors into the loop at that point. She'd gone right to Dumbledore herself, followed by nine of her over-age Think Tank members, all holding wands on Crouch in armed escort.

Dumbledore had awarded Slytherin House one-hundred points for the capture, giving her all the credit, very little of which she felt she deserved. Later that night, Hermione wandered the corridors, trying not to cry. She was so angry at the Headmaster for giving the points, as it awarded one house the credit for Crouch's capture, which was contrary to everything she was trying to accomplish. All the Houses deserved credit. It had been a Gryffindor who'd brought the Marauder's Map up, which had showed them that there was a Barty Crouch in the castle when and where the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement wasn't supposed to be in the castle. It had been a Ravenclaw which suggested that Polyjuice was being used as a means to disguise the Death Eater. It had been a Slytherin - not herself - who had noticed the pattern of Professor Moody drinking from his flask just under every hour. It had been a Hufflepuff, Harry's fellow Champion Cedric Diggory, who had formulated the plan to capture Crouch to confirm their theory before going to the Headmaster. It had been a girl from Beauxbatons who had suggested Hermione get the Truth Potion from her dad, and it had been mostly Durmstrang boys who had escorted Crouch to the Head's Office. All she had done was form the damn Think Tank.

"What. An. Idiot!" Hermione moaned into the darkness, sinking to the cool floor against a wall, tears falling freely.

"The Headmaster?"

Hermione didn't even attempt to hide her pained expression from Minerva when the Scottish witch stepped out of the shadows and into the pale moonlight. "Yes. The points he awarded Slytherin will almost certainly assure us the House Cup, but it's wrong! Every house contributed, and each of the three schools. I tried to tell him that, but all he could see was that it was a Slytherin's idea to form the group that led to all the rest. If Slytherin wins the Cup, Minerva, it will discourage the other houses from contributing. No one wants to be denied due credit!"

Minerva offered her hand and helped Hermione to her feet, surprising the young Slytherin by pulling her into a gentle hug. "Albus means well. He just doesn't understand the big picture sometimes."

"I know."

"I'll walk you back to your dorm," Minerva said calmly, pulling away after a moment.

Hermione nodded in agreement as she wiped her tears away with her sleeve, for once not even desiring to argue with the older witch. The walk wasn't far, and it was made in silence. "Thank you for… I wasn't really up to an argument with you," she tried to explain when they'd arrived a few minutes later.

"I'll take a rain check on that," Minerva offered with a tense smile. "And Hermione…"

The Slytherin turned back to face the Head of Gryffindor, rather than uttering the password to her dorms as she'd been intending to do. "Yes?"

"One-hundred points from Slytherin," she said softly, looking almost tenderly at the girl she was so often at odds with, "for being out of bounds after curfew. And fifty points to Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin each… for contributing to the neutralizing of a dire threat to this school."

Hermione couldn't help herself. She launched herself into Minerva's arms and hugged her tightly. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she muttered into her Professor's shoulder. "You have no idea how much this means to me."

"I believe I have an inkling," Minerva replied, removing herself from the embrace after a moment. "But you and I are best off pretending this… moment… never happened. The whole castle would die of shock if they saw us getting along."

Hermione smirked, and after a moment of hesitation, played a very dangerous card. "I'm not sure they'd be that surprised. Half my friends already suspect the enmity between us is unresolved sexual tension."

Minerva's eyes widened at the implication. "I… uh… that is… of course that's not…"

"Goodnight, Minerva," Hermione said in a teasing tone. She turned and uttered the password to her dorm, leaving the still gaping Professor alone in the dark corridor.

* * *

 **7\. Admit to Dad that I'm crazy about Minerva.**

It was nearing the end of fifth year now, and Hermione sighed as she made her way to her dad's quarters after yet another argument with Minerva. After her bold statement toward the end of the year prior, Minerva had begun this back and forth state of nearly bipolar behavior regarding the sixteen year old Slytherin. They'd get into a fight, and then they'd engage in a perfectly civil conversation about something unrelated to school. They'd toss never reported hexes at each other, and then they'd share a long embrace over a shared hurt in the wake of Dolores Umbridge's rampage at Hogwarts. Back and forth, back and forth, and Hermione was on the verge of going insane in the process, and her feelings for the older woman were continuing to grow, despite all of it. Clearly, she was going mad.

The Think Tank, sans the foreign students from last year, was still functioning, albeit the group now included teaching themselves Defense Against the Dark Arts. It wasn't as though they were learning anything from Umbridge, and knowing what Crouch had been trying to do the year before made them all yearn to develop the skills to fight a war they were each afraid was coming.

Mind, they did still try to solve mysteries. Their obsession for the better part of this term was the locket that Umbridge always wore. Draco had recognized it as Salazar Slytherin's lost locket, and Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw, had shared that she could sense very dark magic coming from the piece of jewelry. Susan Bones of Hufflepuff had contacted her Aunt Amelia - Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement now that Bartemius Crouch had stepped down - who confirmed that certain witches and wizards could simply sense dark magic, which had been a confirmation to the rest of the group of Luna's initial statement. The Ravenclaw was rather strange, but she wasn't wrong. Luna earned a place in the inner circle of the Think Tank after that, and her now fellow Quad League member, Neville Longbottom, asked the girl out shortly after. They'd been going steady since, and Hermione now counted Luna as a friend.

Harry, her favorite Gryffindor, had contacted his godfather, Sirius Black, and gotten some good books on how to narrow down what sort of dark magic might leave a strong enough trace for a witch like Luna to sense. They'd been studying the texts for months now, and had a theory. Hermione, who was still the only one brave enough to speak with Severus Snape outside of class, had been elected to ask the Potions-Master-Who-Knew-A-Ton-About-Dark-Magic if he could confirm their theory before they took it to the Headmaster. Enough of the members of the Think Tank had parents in the Order of the Phoenix, including Hermione via her adoptive father, for them to know that Dumbledore was Head of the Order as much as he was Head of Hogwarts.

"Dad?"

"You're early," Severus commented, glancing at the clock. They usually met on Saturdays at five-thirty in the evening, but it was only four o'clock now.

"Just finished with a Think Tank meet," Hermione explained. "And I wanted to go over some stuff with you. We have a theory, and I'd like your take on it."

"Of course, I'd be happy to…"

Severus' invitation to continue speaking was cut off by his door swinging open again, and Minerva storming in with what appeared to be righteous fury on her robe tails. "Severus, I really must… oh, Miss Granger. Good afternoon."

Hermione slouched over a book, ignoring Minerva's use of formality as per usual.

Severus frowned. "Hermione, Professor McGonagall greeted you. It's poor form to…"

"You needn't bother, Severus," Minerva said with a sigh. "Apologies, _Hermione_. I trust your day is going better than mine?"

Hermione set down her book. "That will depend on whether or not the Think Tank's latest theory is on the mark or not. What's got you in a tizzy, Minerva?"

"For once, not _you_ ," the older witch scoffed.

"I feel like I'm missing something," Severus stated. "Hermione, I'm quite certain I taught you the respect due a Professor."

"Minerva gave me permission to address her informally outside of class, dad," Hermione explained.

"Actually, you blackmailed me into it," Minerva countered, looking almost fondly at the younger woman. "Very much the consummate Slytherin."

Severus sighed. "In any case, Minerva, what did you need?"

"Order related, and hardly urgent," the Deputy Head waved off. "I should have remembered this was your evening with Hermione - we can discuss it later."

"Very well," he nodded. "If you return at eight, I should be free by then."

"It's a date," Minerva agreed. "until then, Severus. Hermione, I shall… see you around."

"Watch your six," Hermione urged. "Umbridge is… dangerous."

The Transfiguration Professor nodded in agreement. "You as well, my dear."

And with that she was gone, Hermione was in a puddle of mush at the term of affection, and silence resounded for a few moments before Severus broke it. "What the _bloody hell_ was that all about?"

"Er…" Hermione blushed.

Severus' eyes widened. "No, Hermione, please tell me you are _not_ …"

"Falling in love with Minerva?" she asked softly.

He rubbed his temples. "What could you possibly be thinking?"

"I really don't think that _thinking_ enters into the equation," Hermione grumped. "And I certainly didn't do it on purpose."

Severus huffed. "Obviously."

"What am I going to do, dad?" the sixteen year old whimpered, putting her head down on the desk. "I don't know what to do."

A low whistle came out of her pseudo father's lips. "You've got it bad, haven't you? And in true Snape form, I suspect she's it for you. You'll love her and only her for the rest of your life, even if you don't get her."

"Nice pep talk," Hermione grouched. "I was still kind of banking on it passing until you said that. I know you're not really my dad, but I'm more like you than my muggle parents, in every way. It's no wonder that no one has ever doubted your claim."

"Perhaps we should consider making it official," he mused. "After your birthday in September, there'd be nothing standing in the way."

"To what end?" Hermione inquired. "You're not one for sentiment so you must have other motivation for even offering."

Severus smirked. "Well, logically speaking, eventually I'll kick the bucket and I do not have a natural heir to inherit my worldly possessions. I'd like them to go to you, when I'm gone. Further, can you just imagine the look on Minerva's face when she realizes that getting together with you will make me her _father-in-law_?"

Hermione grinned. "She'll be mortified."

"Indeed," he agreed. "Which I have to say is inspiring me to assist in your wooing efforts. Presuming that's the direction you want to go."

"Well as you pointed out, she's it," the young Slytherin grumped. "Of course I'll have to woo her, because her stubborn arse won't exactly come willingly."

"First of all, you need to stop provoking her," Severus stated. "Let her process the positive moments you share without overshadowing those feelings with the boiling rage she feels when you get her knickers in a twist."

"Provoking? Knickers in a twist?" Hermione looked slyly at the Potions Master. "My, my, it _sounds_ like my daddy is suggesting I _seduce_ my professor, rather than woo her."

Severus paled. "No, Hermione, that is _not_ what I said! In any case, I advocate for nothing beyond a more civil, platonic relationship for the time being. She won't thank you for compromising her career. Nor will I support such an effort. You will need to wait until at least your birthday, though ideally until after graduation."

"My birthday, certainly, but I make no promises to wait until graduation," the young witch countered. "I blame my Slytherin ambition."

"An excuse formulated with your Slytherin cunning, I'm sure," he countered. "That said, this is a topic for later. I believe you came here early to discuss something your Think Tank came up with."

Hermione nodded. "Do you recall the locket that Umbridge always wears?"

"Yes," Severus confirmed. "I feel as though I've seen it before, but I cannot seem to place it."

"We've identified it as Salazar Slytherin's lost locket," the teen explained. "And we believe that it is cursed by a bit of very dark magic. Luna Lovegood - she's a Ravenclaw a year behind me - is one of those sorts who can sense dark magic, and she says it's the darkest thing she's ever felt. She described it as though the locket was containing a broken, tortured soul. We suspect it is a horcrux."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "The fact that you even know what a horcrux _is_ should puzzle and dismay me, but right now I'm more concerned that you may be correct. Voldemort maintains his life because of those awful things - the Headmaster has been trying to hunt them down. To think there may be one right under his nose… I will need to see him immediately. I trust your research to be sound. You wouldn't have brought this information to me if you weren't nearly sure already."

Hermione nodded, completely aware of the gravity of the situation, especially now that her dad had linked the creation of those _things_ to Voldemort. "I won't keep you," she said, summoning a pile of parchment non verbally. "Here is our research, should you or the Headmaster wish to review it before taking any action."

He took it. "Thank you. And Hermione, whatever books you found information on horcruxes in had better be on my desk by the time I return. Texts like that have no business in the hands of a bunch of teenagers, no matter how good their intentions," he said sternly.

"Yes, sir," she agreed. While the books were informative and she was loathe to give up such a resource, Hermione did understand _that_ tone of voice and knew better than to argue. Besides, she had an eidetic memory, and had already read them all cover to cover. If she ever needed the information, all she'd have to do was search her memory. As far as she knew, she was the only one at Hogwarts with that strong of a recall ability.

An hour later, after moving the books to her dad's study desk, Hermione had opted to take a walk down to the astronomy courtyard in hopes of finding a nice patch of sun to read a book on Arithmancy she'd recently acquired. She had just settled down and begun to flip open the book Paul had recommended when she heard Umbridge's furious voice.

"YOU!" Umbridge screeched. "The Dark Lord _will_ rise again, and when he does, you will be the first to die!"

Hermione dropped the text and scrambled to her feet, realizing in a heartbeat that Dumbledore must have, again, given her credit for something. She was really starting to hate that man. In this instance, he'd all but painted a target on her back! On the upside, Umbridge was not alone - apparently being escorted off premises by the Deputy Head.

"Not bloody likely," Minerva stated calmly, stepping protectively in front of Hermione. "This young woman is too smart to get caught. I would know."

Hermione had been on the verge of panic, but Minerva's apparent confidence in her took the edge off. She drew her own wand to defend herself, if need be, and stepped forward to be side by side with the older witch rather than behind her. "Quite right, Minerva," she said as calmly as she could manage. "Meanwhile, would you care for some assistance in escorting this toad off the grounds? Presuming that was what you were attempting to do..."

Minerva couldn't stop herself from laughing at the description of Umbridge, and at the offer itself. "I would say that you are a student, and send you along, but you never listen to me so I won't even bother. Further, as I can personally attest to your skills in defensive, and _offensive_ spells…"

Hermione blushed lightly at the comment, knowing perfectly well that Minerva was referring to this year's ongoing battle of the surprise hexes between them.

"... I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have an extra wand while removing Madam Umbridge from our school," Minerva continued. "I do apologize on Miss Granger's behalf, madam, for the rather rude comment regarding your toad-like appearance. I have tried and failed for five years to curb Hermione's insolence, to no effect. She is almost Gryffindor in her stubborn nature, but that stubbornness has a knack for seeing infestation where others do not. She's quite effective in removing threats to those she cares for."

The Slytherin looked at the Professor curiously. "I'm trying to decide if you just defended my honor or grievously insulted me."

"Two birds, one stone," Minerva replied, offering the hint of a teasing grin. "Will you consent to follow my lead?"

"Always," Hermione agreed, breathlessly, suddenly realizing how much her relationship with Minerva was evolving much like her dad's had with Lily Evans Potter. She could only hope she was cunning enough, and brave enough, to avoid the two of them repeating history.

* * *

 **8\. Get a Birthday Kiss.**

It was September nineteenth, Hermione's birthday, and while she was certain that her friends were planning some sort of festivities, and she was fairly certain her dad's _errand_ was at the Ministry to pick up the forms needed for him to legally adopt her, the now seventeen year old Slytherin couldn't possibly care less about any of that. Today, she had one goal, one ambition; one birthday wish that she was going to make come true even if it got her expelled.

She wanted a birthday kiss from Minerva. Even if nothing more happened until after she graduated, Hermione felt that kissing Minerva would provide her with a baseline from which to plan her ultimate seduction of the older witch. The Transfiguration Professor's response to such a blatant advance would be very telling indeed.

Of course, it wouldn't do any good if Minerva _knew_ it was an advance, so Hermione decided she'd simply play at being intoxicated. She wouldn't actually go get sloshed - she didn't want to be giving Minerva a drunken, sloppy kiss - but she had to make Minerva believe that was all that had caused her to do such a thing. She wasn't ready for Minerva to know the truth; she wasn't ready to face rejection. Of course, she was never ready to face rejection. Hermione wanted to be liked, which is why despite the close friendship she shared with the original members of the Quad League, not one of them knew she was really muggleborn - that Severus Snape was her father only by virtue of a bond formed under unusual circumstances.

"Hey, Hermione!"

The now adult turned to face her Gryffindor friend, Harry Potter, and a small smile formed on her lips as she remembered her first impression of the young man; that he was accepting and open minded, and not one to judge. In light of everything on her mind, it seemed fortuitous that he should find her. "Hi Harry, what's up?" she asked casually.

"Not much, just wanted to wish you a Happy Birthday, and give you your present," he said. "The rest of the gang are going to give gifts later…"

"At the surprise party I'm going to pretend I'm surprised about?" she asked cheekily.

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I figured you'd have sussed out that was going to happen. Ron, Draco, and Paul were all sure you'd never see it coming. Anyway, I'm sure I'll get made fun of for giving you what I'm giving you so I wanted to do it now instead of in front of those arseholes."

Hermione's curiosity was piqued. "Should I be worried?"

"Nah. Opposite of that, actually," he said, handing her a package a bit bigger than a snitch. "And that was kind of the point. You worry too much."

With a raised eyebrow, she opened the small package to discover two small vials of gold colored potion, which she was able to identify at once. "Harry, this is Liquid Luck!"

He nodded. "Now here's the _make fun of Harry_ part. I made it. While your dad is a bit of a jerk sometimes, he's been giving me private potions tutoring for the last year and a half. He says I got the talent from my mum, and I'm planning to apprentice under him after I take my NEWTS."

"Harry that's fantastic!" she exclaimed, completely shocked to discover that her dad had been tutoring her friend on the sly. "I'm so happy for you!"

"Thanks," he replied. "Anyhow, so end of last term I asked Snape if I could try to make _Felix Felicis_ , and he said he'd teach me how, and if I could manage to actually do it right, he'd personally ensure I gained a Mastery in Potions - that's when talk of becoming his Apprentice came up - and he'd award Gryffindor the required points to make sure we won the House Cup. So, he taught me how, I managed to do it on my third try, and that's why Gryffindor won the Cup last year."

"Harry, I think the Slytherins are rubbing off on you," she deadpanned, knowing how it would affect him.

As expected, her friend looked horrified. Some things would never change. He cleared his throat. "That low blow aside, one vial is for today - so you can have a perfect birthday - and the other is for the time of your choosing. Given what all we get up to, and stupid Voldemort and his continuing attempts to return, I figured you'd know when you needed the extra luck."

"You are the best friend a girl could ever hope for," she said thankfully, uncorking one of the vials. "Well, bottoms up!"

Harry grinned as she downed the potion.

Hermione grinned even wider a moment later, when said potion kicked in, and she realized that the type of carefree she was currently feeling would most certainly make her appear a bit drunk to Minerva. "Harry, I am going to go snog Minerva."

Harry's eyes widened."You're going to _what_?!

Hermione was on cloud nine and the very concept of being afraid of judgment was lost to her. "Minerva? Our Transfiguration Professor? The love of my life? I'm going to go snog her to find out if maybe she'd be open to that sort of thing with me, you know, more snogging after graduation."

"I know who you're talking about 'Mione," Harry groaned. "I was just a bit shocked to learn you still felt that way about her. You said it was a crush, back in third year, and that it passed."

"I lied," she said, apologetic. "I was afraid you and the others would make fun of me, and I've worked really hard to fit in."

"Listen up Granger," Harry said sternly. "You are quite possibly the most popular girl in school. You have no reason to be insecure about fitting in. Even the Professors love you! Except McGonagall, which probably blows considering how you feel about her. Sorry about that."

"How can everyone love me? I lie every single day. My housemates would murder me if they learned…"

Harry frowned. "Hermione, we've all known for ages there's something big you hide from us. Bigger than even liking McGonagall. We don't know what, but me and the others, we made a promise years back that no matter what it turned out to be, no matter when it came out and why, and no matter what reasons you had for keeping your secret… we'd love and support you anyway. You don't do things without reasons, Hermione, and I don't think this secret is an exception to the rule."

Hermione plopped on the ground, and Harry joined her. "You really mean that?"

"Of course,' he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "If you want to talk about it, I promise I won't make you tell the others if you don't want. I just want to be here for you."

"I'm muggleborn," she whispered after a ridiculously brief pause. She could feel the Liquid Luck urging her to open up to Harry. It was telling her he'd understand. "First muggleborn to be sorted to Slytherin in over a century. Professor Snape was concerned I'd be bullied or worse if the rest of the Slytherins knew, so he offered to pretend to be my dad. Funny part is, while neither of us expected it, by pretending to be father and daughter, we _became_ father and daughter. I love him just as much as I do my muggle dad."

Harry let out a long sigh. "Well, I can understand why you two would do this. Who else knows?"

"Just the Headmaster and Minerva."

"Explains why you were drawn to her," Harry mused. "She was one of the only people who you never had to pretend for. For as much as you two bicker, you are unfailingly honest with each other, albeit sometimes in a brutal and scary kind of way that makes everyone a bit scared to be in the same room with the both of you."

She nodded. "Which is probably why it bothers me so much that I haven't told her I'm in love with her. I've never had to lie to her, not really, and I find that I outright hate doing it!"

"Well I wouldn't tell her yet," Harry advised. "After graduation, for sure."

"That's what dad thinks, too."

"Smart guy, your dad."

Hermione grinned, the Liquid Luck pressing her to go on with her day. "Harry, I adore you but your birthday gift is telling me I have somewhere to be. I have to go now."

Harry looked amused. "Where are you off to?"

"No idea!" she called back to him, as she was already trotting down the corridor: destination unknown.

As it turned out, Hermione was on her way to Greenhouse Four, where Minerva happened to be. It was unusual for the Transfiguration Professor to be down at the greenhouses. Sprout rarely asked for favors and otherwise, Minerva had never seemed particularly interested. "Whatcha doing?" the young Slytherin inquired, smiling brightly.

The older witch turned, startled. "Hermione, you surprised me. What are you doing here?"

"I asked you first!" Hermione said gleefully.

Minerva frowned, and peered at her student over her glasses. "Miss Granger, are you drunk?"

Hermione gasped. "I'd never do _that_! I have control issues, you know."

"Never say never," Minerva muttered, looking amused. "It's tempting, I must admit, to take advantage of your intoxicated state and try and get some reasonable explanation for your unruly behavior over the years."

"Well why don't you?" Hermione asked."Why resist the temptation to take… _advantage_ of me?"

"You're incorrigible," the older witch stated, "but despite myself I find I've actually grown… accustomed to you and these days, I tend to just enjoy the banter and not bother with the question of why."

"Well that's just silly," Hermione countered, pulling out her wand and summoning a cluster of mistletoe which, while not quite in season yet, would serve to further her goal of getting a birthday kiss. She levitated the berried plant in the air just above where they were standing. "Don't you want to know why I just put mistletoe above us? I'm sure you know what it means."

"I do know what it means," Minerva confirmed, "though I really, really do _not_ want to know why you'd...uh...why you'd want to…"

"Snog you?"

"Yes."

"Because I can," Hermione said with a shrug, lurching forward and pressing her lips to her Professor's.

She could only credit the Liquid Luck coursing through her system that Minerva did not back away at once and slap her. Hermione sighed happily as the kiss was hesitantly returned for a short while, before the Deputy Head's lust addled brain cleared enough for her to realize _what_ she was doing and with _whom._ "Oh for the love of Merlin!" Minerva gasped, pulling away.

Plus side, Hermione still had not gotten slapped. "That was divine," she muttered happily.

"Are you out of your bloody mind?!"

"Hey!" Hermione defended herself. "You kissed me back, you know."

"Did not!"

"Did so!"

"Did not! Why on earth would I kiss _you_?" the older woman spat. "You have done _nothing_ in going on six years but be a thorn in my side, Hermione Granger!"

Hermione knew, somewhere in her mind, she should feel hurt by that comment, but the Liquid Luck was telling her it was a lie and to not take offence. "But you still kissed me back," she replied, matter-of-fact.

Minerva sighed, leaning against a table with a look of defeat. "We can't, Hermione. Even if I wanted to, you are my _student_. The banter between us already crosses lines that any Headmaster other than Albus would never stand for. Even he would not support..."

Hermione moved forward again, pressing her body against Minerva's, watching for a moment - faces inches apart - as the other woman breathed heavily, conflict obvious in her pained expression. "Min…" she whispered.

"Stop," the Scottish witch pleaded weakly. "For the love of Merlin, just stop."

The young Slytherin, however, had just enough Gryffindor in her not to be deterred by the obviously half hearted request. "Why?" she asked softly, leaning forward just enough so that their noses touched briefly.

Minerva hesitated for another half a second, before she weaved her fingers into Hermione's curly hair all in a rush, and initiated a second kiss. This time, it was anything but gentle, and Hermione returned the kiss with equal vigor. Now, they were outright snogging, and above that, their bodies were pressed firmly against each other, hands wandering as each attempted to bring them closer together.

A few minutes passed, before the older witch abruptly pushed her student away, rough and hard. Hermione noticed at once that Minerva was crying now, taking only a moment to wipe the evidence off her face and storm toward the door. "Hermione," she said before she walked out, "you are everything I shouldn't want, and I _hate_ you. I hate what you are doing to me, I hate that a part of me wants it, but most of all, I hate that this is a game to you. A game which I am quite through playing. Stay _away_ from me, Granger."

"It's not a game," Hermione whispered to the empty greenhouse a minute later. "You're breaking my heart as surely as I seem to be breaking yours."

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	3. Chapter 3

**Good news, folks. I'm NOT dead. I am sincerity sorry I haven't been posting much. Life through me a hell of a curve ball and it's taken a bit for me to find the emotional ability to do more than just go through the motions. To Lost Founder fans, I am looking over where I'm at with that one and hoping to pick it back up soon. Watch for updates! Meanwhile, please enjoy a new installment for Bucket List.**

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 **9\. Don't let the Quad kill Minerva McGonagall.**

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For the two weeks following Hermione's birthday, the young Slytherin had held her chin high in hopes that Minerva's ire over their shared kisses would pass. With no sign of the hatred even beginning to dim, Hermione had lowered her eyes, taken a deep breath, and hoped that submissiveness would show the older witch this was _not_ a game to her. By mid October, Hermione had done what no one would have ever believed she would do, and dropped Transfiguration outright, citing to the Headmaster that she wanted to focus her attention on other subjects, though even he seemed to understand that the truth was pure and simple; she couldn't stand having to sit in that classroom and watch Minerva's poor attempts at pretending civility existed between them.

"I could speak with Minerva about…" Dumbledore had started to offer.

"No," she'd cut him off at once. "Please sir, just let this go. I've always favored Charms and I need to start focusing on…" _Not her_ , she'd thought as a tear rolled down her cheek. "On my future."

Hermione had hoped that would be that, but eight of the Quad League had taken personal offence to the way Minerva's foul temper was impacting their de facto leader. Harry and Draco were the only ones of the group who knew the full extent of what had transpired, and only Harry knew her deepest fears of rejection and why, and just how much of a nightmare she was now living. If Minerva McGonagall had never endured hell on earth, she certainly was going to now, because her friends were out for vengeance. Harry had been appointed the ringleader as she fell deeper and deeper into depression, as the rest of the crew seemed to understand that he knew more than the others regarding why she was completely falling to pieces, not to mention that everyone already saw him as Hermione's second in command. As Harry had been her own, Draco rose to become the Gryffindor teen's lieutenant.

Their pranks weren't funny. They weren't really cruel, either; Harry's sense of honor would never have allowed for that, but with Draco at his side, their torture of Minerva was rather calculated, and executed in a manner Hermione might have been proud of if it had been aimed at anyone else. Despite Minerva's hatred of her, Hermione still loved the older woman, and pitied her beloved's present and impending torment. By the beginning of November, the magnum opus of the insurrection was planned and ready to begin, with no one but the Quad League being aware of the fact. Hermione imagined that the Headmaster and her dad knew _something_ was happening, but neither had any real clue what. Minerva was too lost in her anger to see anything coming, much less _this_.

At the present, Hermione was being dragged down the corridor by Luna, who had invited her to witness as Harry, Neville, Draco, and Pansy put their plan into action. They stopped at the door to the Transfiguration Classroom just as the sixth year Gryffindor and Slytherin class was beginning to file out.

"Misters Potter, Longbottom, Duncan, and Miss Parkinson," Minerva called. "Please remain behind a moment."

Two of the four complied, though rather than looking concerned or guilty as the Transfiguration Professor probably thought they should, they looked determined. Pansy and Neville both glared at Minerva and promptly exited the room, and with a nod to Hermione, Luna joined them as they continued down the corridor. She, of course, remained behind, curious about how Minerva would react to firstly, the refusal to remain as asked from Pansy and Neville, and secondly, how she'd handle the ultimatum that Harry and Draco were about to present their teacher.

Minerva appeared baffled that two students would just ignore her like that, but she pressed her lips together and turned to address the two remaining boys. "None of the four of you handed in your homework today. You have until the weekend to get it to me or I will deduct twenty points from each of your houses."

"We will not be turning in the homework," Draco stated crisply. "Not myself or Pansy Parkinson, who stand for Slytherin. Not Harry here, or Neville Longbottom, who stand for Gryffindor. Not Luna Lovegood or Paul Duncan, who stand for Ravenclaw. Not Natalie Traylor or Oscar Maynes, who stand for Hufflepuff."

Minerva looked startled.

"United," Harry continued their planned speech, "we stand for Hermione Granger. We stand as one house, one purpose, and for one reason. We stand for Hermione and the hurts you have inflicted on her, and we stand together in our resolve to never turn homework into you for the rest of our time at Hogwarts, unless you make amends to _her_."

Minerva looked annoyed.

"We will attend classes, but we will not participate," Draco went on. "We will take the exams you give us, and it is based on those that you will grade us, and grade us fairly."

"This may be the first year in history that there is no house cup to present, because if you go through with this, gentlemen," Minerva sneered. "I will deduct every point from every house. Your unity will be your undoing."

Harry glared at his Head of House, who backed down slightly at the sight of her celebrity student looking the part of full grown man as he pulled his wand and reared on her. "You can take all the points you like, McGonagall," he spat. "Because our unity is going to bring about an era of _peace_. We are stronger than our parents and grandparents because we choose to see past social expectation and into a future in which no witch or wizard will ever feel the pain of living during a war. What Hermione has done is bigger than Hogwarts. She is the leader of our generation, and you've hurt her, and by extension, you've hurt the future we have all worked hard to make."

"Detention, both of you!" Minerva barked, drawing her own wand. "I will not be bullied by a couple of…"

"We know you kissed Hermione," Draco said softly, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder, silently urging him to reign in his temper. "If you take points, or give us detention, or cause any further hurt to Hermione, we will go to the board of Governors and report you. Your career will be over."

Like a switch, Minerva went white, backing down like a small animal that had just been stricken harshly by a heavy hand. "Blackmail?" she whispered in disbelief. "You've stooped to blackmail and you have the _nerve_ to call yourself better than me?"

Hermione's gut lurched at the look of pain on Minerva's face, but she resisted the urge to rush in and comfort the older witch. She held back because she knew how important a moment this was. The Quad League was in the process of becoming more than just a school gang. They were becoming the better future of the Wizarding World. Her feelings, Minerva's feelings… all of that was secondary.

"Not blackmail, McGonagall," Harry said in a far gentler tone than before. "Justice. Justice for our friend, who has done nothing wrong, but you punish at every turn. We've put up with it till now because you were only taking points. This time, you took her heart, and then you broke it. You went too far, and this is the consequence."

"You have three options, Professor," Draco remarked pointedly. "First, you can be made a fool for allowing eight students to get away with what we're certain breaks about a hundred school rules. Others will notice and before long, it won't just be eight of us. Second, you can punish us to maintain control of your classroom, and we will go to the Ministry and ensure the end of your career. You'll be a disgrace. Third, you could shelf your pride, face up to the fact that you're just as in love with Hermione as she is with you, and be happy."

"So what will it be?" Harry asked. "Are you a fool, disgraced, or are you going to let yourself be happy?"

Minerva's lips pressed tightly together before speaking. "I'm not sure how you can possibly say that Hermione has done nothing wrong. If you got the full story, you already know she kissed me first. She made an blatant advance on my person, despite the fact that I asked her not to as soon as I saw it coming."

Harry and Draco knew all of this. "That doesn't negate that the second kiss was initiated by yourself, Professor," the Slytherin teen stated. "And the Board of Governors will see her as a misguided teen and you as a pedophile who'd been leading her on for years. It's legendary how you two are so hot and cold."

"Have your little revolution then," Minerva said softly, teeth clenched and tears obviously threatening to fall from her eyes. "I agree to your terms regarding the homework for the two from each house that you've stated. I will not be lenient with any other student. I will also not be giving house points to anyone at all for the duration of the year, though I will not deduct either. The students, all of you, will have to rely on other professors in your annual house cup battle."

"Geeze, McGonagall!" Harry groaned. "What have you got against being happy? You're not just a fool to walk away from Hermione. You're a coward!"

"Because for as certain as she seems to be about how she feels, I am anything but," Minerva replied. "Because one broken heart is enough for a lifetime, and I believe it more foolish to risk my heart on a woman decades my junior than it is foolish to walk away from a chance for love. And, at the end of the day, for as admirable as your group's efforts at unity are, and how well that may turn out in helping the political climate in years to come, in the here and now I am Gryffindor, she is Slytherin, and unlike her, I have a lifetime of believing that it is highly unlikely that members of two opposing houses would work out on a romantic level. Now, gentlemen, have we an accord?"

Draco nodded, even if Harry was silently fuming at what he obviously felt was a flimsy set of excuses. "We do. Though if you change your mind… this agreement can be nullified. If Hermione gets her chance at happiness, all debts are forgiven."

"Including back homework," Harry added with a rush. "You don't get to go after her later and then tell us we have to give you a pile of homework."

Draco smirked. "Hate to break it to you Harry, but the Head of Gryffindor is not likely to be Slytherin enough to have even thought of doing that. You on the other hand…"

"Oh, sod off," Harry grumped.

Minerva rolled her eyes. "Get out of my classroom. Now."

The dangerous look in Minerva's eye certainly got the two boys to get a step on, and Hermione hurried away from her hiding spot near the door to the classroom, intent on going to her dad's. There, she could cry in peace.

Unknown to Hermione, as soon as the door to her classroom closed, Minerva's tears began to fall. For hours, she wept at her desk, missing dinner just like Hermione, in favor of dwelling on the heart wrenching question plaguing their respective minds; was this what love was supposed to feel like, and if it was, how did something so wonderful hurt this deeply?

* * *

 **10\. Survive.**

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Harry Potter refused to say another word to his Head of House for the remainder of their sixth year at Hogwarts. Over the summer, the Quad League members met up several times to discuss the situation, and eventually agreed to continue the battle when they returned to school. Harry still refused to speak to the Scottish witch. Draco, having ended up in the Hospital Wing per being beaten up by a fellow Slytherin - Gregory Goyle - for not standing by the Pureblood supremacy attitude they'd both been raised with was equally unable to manage the task at hand, so Paul and Natalie ended up drawing the short straw and informed Minerva that the eight of them would continue not handing in homework and so forth.

Minerva had fumed, and attempted to intimidate the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff into a change of heart. Paul had calmly stated that it was illogical to change tactics when their current plan of attack was already proving sound. While the Transfiguration Professor was not moving toward a romance with Hermione, she at least was doing her best to avoid the young Slytherin, which was giving the broken hearted brunette some small bit of peace. If Paul's response hadn't been infuriating enough to the Deputy Head, her attempt to argue Paul's point of logic resulted in getting laughed at - loudly - by his Hufflepuff companion.

"What in the name of Merlin is so funny, Miss Traylor?"

The Kenyan girl smirked. "I simply find it amusing that you'd try to threaten us when we are the ones with all the power. It's like watching a mouse try to fight a cat who already has it by the tail."

Minerva's self control had slipped in the moment that followed, and Paul and Natalie ended up spending the evening in the Hospital Wing keeping Draco company, per a need for a burn salve to treat a handful of powerful stinging hexes. Madam Pomfrey had wanted to know how the injuries had occurred, but neither of the seventh years were willing to say. Getting McGonagall in trouble wouldn't help Hermione.

Of course, Hermione finding out that Minerva had injured her friends certainly didn't help the Professor, and that much was unavoidable after the teenager had come to visit Draco and found the other two. Hermione had left in a huff, and half an hour later Minerva had also sulked into the Hospital Wing seeking burn salve.

That had been day one back at Hogwarts.

By the end of the first week, Hermione and Minerva had each been to the hospital wing three times for injuries they refused to report an attacker for. By the time October arrived, Prefects were warning the younger students to get out of the way if they ever saw Hermione Granger and Minerva McGonagall within five yards of one another. By Halloween, the Headmaster had sat down with both women, separately mind you, and ordered them to cease their mini war. Unfortunately for Dumbledore and the rest of the student and teacher population, Minerva knew Albus wouldn't fire her, and Hermione knew the Headmaster wouldn't expel her. The worst either of them had to deal with as consequence to the battle of the hexes was a verbal lashing from Severus Snape, and even that wasn't enough to make them stop.

Hermione had been ordered home for Christmas by her surrogate father, so the holiday brought a bit of peace. Both she and Minerva spent the hols drinking themselves into oblivion, and were both suffering hangovers when they crossed paths not an hour after Hermione returned to the school.

"Ugh!" Hermione groaned, raising her wand as soon as she saw Minerva come around the corner. She couldn't seem to get any peace.

Minerva made to raise her own wand, and then let out a ragged breath and put it away again. "I'm not doing this today, Hermione," she whispered. "I'm too tired."

"I'm not exactly sure why we're doing it at all," Hermione mumbled in reply, secretly grateful that her existing headache was not about to be compounded by Merlin knew what Minerva had up her sleeve spell wise. "Do you know how many times I've let you hex me because I feel guilty about hexing you previously? This is getting ridiculous! I hate how much I've hurt you!"

"Well at least you're not trying to snog me," Minerva growled.

"I'd rather be doing that."

"You've a funny way of showing it."

Hermione kicked the wall she was standing by. "I did show you. You told me to bugger off, remember? If you'd rather be kissed than cursed, by all means I'd gladly comply."

The older woman snorted. "You? Comply? That would be a first. Why _did_ you kiss me?"

Hermione stared at Minerva, dumbfounded. "A bloody year after the fact, and _now_ you're wondering? For fuck's sake!"

Her back pressed against the cool wall, and she slid down to the ground. After a moment, Minerva walked over and sat down beside the Slytherin. "I've been wondering since the moment it happened. To be honest, I'm terrified of the answer and it's taken me this long to work up the nerve to inquire."

"It isn't a game," Hermione said softly after a moment, referencing the brief, heated discussion from the previous September. "It never was. I've thought a lot about it and given how we've always been around each other, I guess I can see why you'd think that. I used to think that because you know the truth about me - you know, that I'm muggleborn - I never had to pretend around you, but the fact is that I've pretended the most around you. I egged you on because I liked you, and I wanted you to notice me… not because I wanted to get on your nerves for the sake of it."

"Do I even know the real you?" Minerva asked.

"I'm in love with you," the younger woman said calmly, resignation clearly in her posture and voice. "Is that real enough to answer your question?"

Minerva sucked in a harsh breath. "Damn," she muttered. "Why, for the love of Merlin?"

"In a nutshell?" Hermione croaked out, fighting back a wave of tears. "Because you're strong where I'm weak. Because you make me want to be a better person. Because you challenge me in a way no one else does. Because while you've had every reason to betray my trust and tell the whole school my secret, you haven't. And because when you look at me, I can feel you touching my soul, even if you never meant to do it."

The pair sat in silence for a few minutes before Hermione posed her own question.

"How do you feel about me?"

The older witch didn't hesitate in her answer, and it was far more succinct than her companion's had been. "Like you're the air I breathe, in a world I didn't know I'd been looking for all my life."

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	4. Chapter 4

**Short chapter, but it's a bit pivotal so far as the plot development is concerned so I opted to go ahead and post. Special shoutout to Nora for this update! Happy Christmas!**

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 **11\. Get Minerva into bed before graduation.**

Hermione was certain that Minerva was beginning to regret her confession the day students had returned from Christmas break. It was blatantly clear to the Slytherin that she was being avoided, and Minerva wasn't even being subtle about it. On the plus side, it was different than the last time this had happened. Hermione wasn't drowning in despair this time, but rather she was filled with a renewed sense of hope. Minerva wanted her. She'd point blank admitted as much, even if her confession had been hastily followed with " _But that doesn't change that this thing between the two of us is wrong."_

Well, Hermione didn't give two shites if it was wrong or not; she loved Minerva, and she was pretty sure Minerva loved her. She'd known the older witch long enough to know that in order to get her to own up to what she was feeling in a more concrete way, Hermione had to get her to cross a line that she couldn't just pretend never happened. In short, Hermione had to get her into bed. Given that she was pretty much a novice in the world of seduction, this was proving to be a bit of a challenge. There really weren't any books on how to seduce a teacher, or anyone for that matter, which meant Hermione had to get her information from those with more experience in the art of seduction.

Pansy Parkinson and Ginny Weasley were all too happy to offer insight.

"She's not the sort to go for wooing," Ginny speculated. "She's more the sort who wants to be commanded, I think. Pansy, thoughts?"

"Agreed," the other teen replied. "Likely, that's part of the attraction to you in the first place, Hermione. You have always been forceful with her. You never treated her like a Professor, even when we were in first year. She never had a chance to treat you as a student, or even see you that way, because you never allowed yourself to be treated that way. You denied her anything but equality."

"So, what? I back her into a corner and snog her?" Hermione asked.

"Back her into a corner and make her think you're going to snog her," Ginny corrected, "then say something very teasing and walk off."

"How does that make sense?"

Pansy answered for her Gryffindor friend. "McGonagall is torn between feeling like you're an equal and feeling like you've bullied her into this position. She won't accept you unless you make it her choice to do so. The trick her is to make her want to make that choice."

"I don't get it," Hermione frowned.

Ginny shook her head and then stood from the floor that the three girls had been sitting on in Pansy and Hermione's dorm. "Pansy, come here."

Pansy grinned and stood as well, nodding to Ginny to take the lead in this demonstration. "In this instance, I'm you, and Ginny is McGonagall. Got it?"

"Got it," came a skeptical reply.

"Watch and learn then," Ginny said. Then, she turned to Pansy, locking eyes and moving toward her slowly. Pansy, showing a feeling of being threatened, backed away until she was pressed into the wall. Ginny kept moving forward, slowly, never breaking eye contact.

Finally, her body pressed against Pansy's and her hand lightly touched the other girl's waist, and her lips moved so that they were just a fraction of an inch away from the corner of Pansy's lips. "I'm yours for the taking," Ginny whispered, lips ghosting away from Pansy's lips and finally pressing on her jawline, causing Pansy to let out a small gasp. Ginny's fingers moved over Pansy's hips in response, then paused for a moment before gripping the older girl and sharply pulling their pelvises together.

"Oh...gods…" Pansy moaned, and Hermione was pretty sure she was not faking the reaction.

"It's your choice…" Ginny promised, whispering into Pansy's ear before pulling away abruptly and walking to the other side of the room.

It took a moment for Pansy to compose herself. "Shite, Gin. Yeah, that would work. That would _so_ work on McGonagall. I'm bloody straight and that damn well near worked on me!"

Hermione was, admittedly, impressed, and having witnessed the type of seduction the girls had been trying to verbally express, she understood why it would, in fact, work on Minerva. It was about power. Hermione had it, and Minerva knew that. This made Minerva feel weak, which she certainly didn't like. While Hermione had attracted Minerva by forcing equality between them, the fact of the matter was that the equality had been forced, not earned and not developed naturally. Hermione needed to show Minerva that she could have the power as well.

Of course, what Ginny and Pansy had just shown her was more of a step five kind of move in her mind. Minerva wasn't ready for that yet, and Hermione didn't think she really was either.

Step one happened the very next day, when during Transfiguration class Minerva misquoted an article. Normally, Hermione would have used a moment like that to call Minerva on the error, in front of the students, embarrassing the older witch. This time, she remained behind after class to address it privately. "Professor?" she respectfully asked permission to speak.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" Minerva replied tersely, obviously assuming Hermione was attempting to discuss something other than academics.

"I just wanted to let you know that you misquoted the article from _Transfiguration Weekly_. The way you worded it keeps the meaning of the article the same, but in case any students wanted to cite the article in a paper, you may want to consider making sure they are quoting the original author rather than your paraphrasing," Hermione said calmly, never breaking eye contact.

Minerva looked perplexed, and Hermione understood why. It was out of character for her not to take advantage of an opportunity to show Minerva up. There was a time and place for nit-picking, she was beginning to realize, but not here in the classroom. Minerva deserved more respect than that, and Hermione was now starting to see how poorly she'd treated the woman she loved in the past. That was going to change now.

Step two had taken until the end of January to complete. In the course of the month, Hermione had taken every opportunity to show Minerva due respect, even ceasing to call her Minerva when they were alone together. Eventually, the Professor stopped looking surprised to be treated that way by Hermione. Granted, Minerva was still making an effort to avoid her, so the being alone together thing had only happened a few times.

Step three was a show of power play like Ginny and Pansy had suggested, but not in a sexual manner. The opportunity presented, conveniently, on Valentines Day, when Minerva was chaperoning the students in Hogsmeade. When Hermione saw her standing alone, she approached. "Hello, Minerva."

As predicted, Minerva glowered. "Miss Granger. What do you need?"

Hermione crossed her arms, and let out a sigh. "I need you to acknowledge that regardless of whether or not _anything_ happens between us in the future, you and I have a relationship that does not exist in the student and teacher dynamic. Although yes, I am still a student that you teach, I am also an adult with whom you've had a physical relationship and developed an emotional attachment. Addressing each other by given names is appropriate in private. Further, Minerva, considering that I'm sure half of your reservations regarding what's developed between us is because of my age, it is a bit baffling to me that you are the one avoiding me - an action that could hardly be construed as mature behavior."

At first, Minerva stood there gaping like a fish, seemingly dumbfounded at the audacity of Hermione's words. Then, as the younger woman had hoped, she processed what was said and nodded. "You're right, Hermione," Minerva said quietly. "And I apologize. While I remain adamant that nothing can happen between us, regardless of what we might feel, I have behaved badly in how I've treated you. You've done nothing but give me a respectful distance, and I've reacted as if you were throwing yourself at me at every turn."

"Apology accepted," Hermione replied. "Good day, Minerva."

"And to you, Hermione," the older woman replied, offering the Slytherin the first smile she'd given her in months.

Step four had required Ginny and Pansy's expertise. They helped her style her hair in a way that seemed more mature, but not so mature that it looked like she was trying too hard. The same went for her muggle wardrobe. The end result of the look meant her hair was often up in a loose bun, and she took to wearing slacks rather than jeans, and button downs rather than jumpers. The things she did in her spare time also shifted. Rather than planning pranks, she could be seen tutoring the younger students over the course of the rest of February and March. By the time students were getting ready to leave for Easter Break, it was obvious that Minerva had noticed the little changes, and approved.

Ginny and Pansy claimed to more than once have caught Minerva staring at the young woman she claimed to _not want_ , with a look on her face that said _want very much_. While the other girls found this incredibly amusing, Hermione mostly found peace in the way Minerva was looking at her now. For the first time, she felt like Minerva was seeing "Hermione, the young woman I care for" as opposed to "Miss Granger, the student I want to beat senseless," and it was exactly the kind of encouragement that Hermione needed to execute step five when most of the student body was gone for Easter Break.

Only hours after the school had all but emptied, Hermione located Minerva in the Transfiguration corridor - much thanks to Harry's map - and managed to arrange for the Professor to quite literally _bump into her_. "Oh, Hermione, I'm sorry!" Minerva exclaimed genuinely. "I didn't see you."

"I should have been looking where I was going," Hermione fibbed. "Not that I mind running into you. Any plans for the holiday break?"

Minerva shrugged. "Some peace and quiet before fifth and seven years return and are suddenly thrown into mass panic over impending OWLs and NEWTs."

Hermione chuckled. "The only test I'm worried about is Defense. The written I'll do well enough in, but the practical…"

The Professor huffed. "You and I have traded hexes enough for me to safely say you'll do fine on the practical."

"Traded hexes, yes," Hermione agreed. "But we've never just dueled for the sake of testing skill. I don't suppose I could talk you into doing some exercises with me while we don't have a castle full of people in the way…"

Hermione took a deep breath. The offer was there, and yes or no, it was Minerva's choice. Were they ready to actually _do_ something together? To the Slytherin's relief, the older witch smiled brightly at the idea. "Sounds like fun. When?"

"I'm free now," Hermione countered. "If you are."

"Nothing to do but grade some papers that I'm honestly in favor of blowing off for the time being," Minerva confessed. "Room of Requirement should suit us well enough, don't you think?"

"Certainly."

The two women made their way to the Room of Requirement, asking it for a space to duel. "Any rules?" Minerva asked, drawing her wand.

"Rules have never suited us, Minerva," Hermione jibed, eliciting a wry grin from her companion. "Though fair warning, Dad's training included hand to hand combat alongside wandwork."

"Excellent," Minerva replied, eyes gleaming at the notion of a challenge like this.

"Don't you dare hold back, McGonagall," Hermione said lowly, drawing her own wand. By the way Minerva's eyes widened, she clearly understood the double meaning to the statement, but even if she was suddenly regretting agreeing to this, there was no backing down now. She was too Gryffindor to turn tail at the first hint of trouble.

For a moment, it looked as though Minerva was going to ask a question, but the moment passed and she positioned herself to attack. "Duel."

Sparks flew out of both their wands and for the better part of twenty minutes they silently dueled, the occasional vulgarity escaping each of their lips as hexes hit their marks. Eventually, Hermione came to the conclusion that ultimately, Minerva would likely best her when it came to wand work, but she didn't know if the older woman could rival her agility in hand to hand combat as well. Hermione moved closer and closer until they were too close together to cast spells, and wands were silently banished back into respective holsters as kicks and punches started flying in the place of hexes.

"You'd pass the Auror Office fitness exam," Minerva ground out, dodging a roundhouse kick from Hermione. "You're going to ace the practical Defense OWL."

"Winning isn't everything," Hermione replied, raising her arm to block Minerva's left hook before dropping to the ground and kicking the older woman's feet out from under her. The Scottish woman landed on her back with a grunt, and Hermione quickly moved to straddle her and pin her arms above her head. "But it is fun," she added with a wry grin.

Minerva was panting, and Hermione wasn't sure it was entirely because she was out of breath. "Yield," the older woman called.

This was the moment. Hermione could accept the surrender and thank Minerva for the exercise, simple as that, or she could make an unmistakable move. Summoning every ounce of courage she had, her hands let go of Minerva's pinned hands and moved down her arms. She gripped the older woman's hips with her knees, shoulders with her hands, and then twisted so that a moment later, it was she who was laying back on the mat and Minerva who was resting on top of her.

"I already have yielded," Hermione whispered, looking into stunned green eyes. Her hands ghosted Minerva's waist, causing the woman on top of her to let out a soft moan. "But it's not just up to me."

"Hermione…" Minerva uttered, breathless. "We… can't."

"Only because you won't," the Slytherin countered. "But I think you're running out of reasons to say no."

Minerva's forehead dropped till it rested on Hermione's. "That doesn't change that I should still say no to you."

Hermione tilted her head up in a way that nearly brought their lips together. Her hands moved up to cup Minerva's face. "Then tell me no."

"I...Hermione, I…"

"Can't?" Hermione whispered, thrusting her hip slightly. "Then say yes, Min. Because that's the only thing left to do."

Minerva said yes. She said yes by, after one more look of painful conflict, she relaxed into Hermione's lips and they began to kiss. "I want to hate you so much…" the older woman whimpered as the kisses grew frantic.

Hermione flipped Minerva again, not even breaking the kisses. "I want to love you, more," she responded, beginning to tug away articles of clothing. "Don't hold back."

"Never…" Minerva agreed, joining her soon-to-be-lover's efforts to disrobe them. "Never again, darling."

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	5. Chapter 5

**I don't forget about really good stories. I swear. Enjoy!**

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 **12\. Come out of the closet.**

By the time the students returned from Easter break, all very well rested and relaxed, and ready to start the new term, Minerva and Hermione had all but shagged themselves into exhaustion. Mind you, exhaustion didn't seem to be stopping them from keeping at it. While their sexual relationship had begun in the Room of Requirement, the list of locations in the castle which had seen their naked bodies was growing by the day. Empty classrooms, abandoned dorms, and cluttered closets had all been christened.

"Gods, 'Mione…" Minerva ground out, as Hermione backed her into the wall of the broom closet they were currently hiding in. Deftly, the younger witch's fingers slid between the older's legs, climbing upward until they found the warm, wet center.

"Mine," Hermione whispered, nibbling on Minerva's lip between kisses. "You're all… fucking… mine…"

Minerva whimpered. "Yours," she agreed. "As you are mine."

The Scottish witch arched into Hermione's hand, as orgasm rippled through her, though she didn't take much recovery time before she asserted her own dominance, and pushed her partner roughly away, only to lunge at her a second later, quickly kneeling on the ground and pushing Hermione's skirt out of the way. Hermione moaned as a tongue swept upward and into her, hips rocking against her Professor's mouth. "So close…" she muttered, fingers curling into Minerva's hair.

Her body shivered as a slender hand snaked upward, under her shirt, until it found a bra covered breast. Hermione quickly reached behind her own back and unclasped the offending garment, allowing it to fall away enough for Minerva to take hold of her highly erect nipple. One pinch and she was _gone_ , release rippling through her and resulting in buckling legs. Minerva eased her to the ground and onto her back, moving her lips to the revealed breast and her fingers between Hermione's thighs. "Again…" the older woman pleaded, straddling a raised leg and searching for a point of friction.

A month ago, Hermione might have teased Minerva for a sign of desperation like this, but not now. Now, she couldn't get enough, and didn't see that changing any time soon. She shifted to offer Minerva a better position to work with, and pulled open the already dislodged button-down so that she could tear Minerva's bra out of the way with her teeth before latching onto a pale breast. Minerva moaned at the contact, faltering in her thrusting rhythm for a moment before violently resuming to shag Hermione blind. "Is this what you want?" she asked roughly.

The anger in Minerva's voice was nothing new. While she was obviously a willing participant, there was still a bit of lingering resentment from the older woman, which Hermione could understand. What they were doing was wrong, and while Hermione had never cared about the technicality, Minerva did care so the younger woman allowed her the anger, at least for now. In another few months she'd graduate, and the rules that applied now would be gone. Afterward, Hermione hoped, the anger would fade away, and her lover would just let herself be happy.

"Yes," Hermione panted. "Gods, I love you…"

Minerva's eyes were beginning to lose focus by now, as her hip movement brought her closer and closer to the edge. "Almost, love…" she whispered.

"Almost," Hermione agreed, pushing Minerva's hand away from her, and shifting so that they were rubbing frantically against each other in the most intimate way possible. Both women moaned softly as the ache built inside of them. "Together…" the younger gasped.

A moment after that, they both stiffened, unable to tolerate any further movement as their bodies shuddered in pleasure. Weakly, Minerva crumbled to the stone floor beside Hermione, relaxing against the cool stone, and allowing the heat to fall away.

They remained silent for a time, before Minerva sat back up and began righting her hair. "We shouldn't be doing this, Hermione," she muttered.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "And yet, we are," came her, by now routine reply to Minerva's equally routine statement.

"Well, if we're going to keep doing this, then you might as well tell your friends so they can start turning in homework again, and ideally, cease pranking me," the older woman said after a pause. "As much as good sense says not to tell a damn soul so I don't end up out of a job, the fact that my class notes keep getting stuck to the ceiling of my classroom is getting rather tiresome. Further, I know your friends are loyal to you, and turning me in would not serve to make you happy, so I gather."

Hermione was surprised at this. She'd been thinking about asking Minerva for permission to tell her friends, and for much the same reason, though she'd been afraid to push her lover. She didn't want to risk scaring Minerva away. As much as it had nearly killed her to be apart from the woman after they'd only kissed, she didn't want to know what it would do to her if Minerva walked away after this. "Alright," she agreed.

"No argument?" Minerva asked, grinning a bit.

"First of all, your reasoning is solid," she replied. "Second of all, I'd already been thinking much the same, and third of all, you just shagged me senseless and if I'm _ever_ prone to be agreeable, post orgasm is prime time for the attempt."

Minerva smirked at that, and then the both of them worked to dress themselves. "Shite," the older woman said, casting a _Tempus_ charm. "I've got to get to class."

Hermione leaned into her lover, found her lips and began to kiss her languidly. "Will I see you again later?" she asked.

The older witch returned the kiss, tension leaving her shoulders as she relaxed into the embrace. "If you tell at least Parkinson today, and she'll cover for you in the dorms, you can come to my quarters tonight and stay over."

The offer thrilled Hermione. Up until now, they'd not actually managed to make love in a _bed_. Floors, tables, chairs, and everything in between, but never in a bed, and certainly not to sleep. Emotion welled up, and her kisses evolved from lazy to passionate. Minerva returned the gesture, seeming to agree with the importance of the moment, though it only lasted a few minutes before Minerva remembered where she had to be. "Whut?" Hermione asked, as she was pushed away roughly.

"I have class!" Minerva snapped, exasperated. "You… _minx_."

Hermione giggled. "See you later. Try not to imagine me going down on you while you're teaching the third years."

Minerva glared, rolled her eyes, and then left the closet and her lover behind. As usual, Hermione lingered for a few moments, so that any passerby who might see one of them exit any given location wouldn't see them exit together. After a few more minutes of double checking to make sure she didn't appear too disheveled, Hermione left the closet as well, doing a mental check in her mind to decide when she'd be able to get all her friends privately together. As she figured it, she couldn't tell Pansy and not tell Ginny, and if she told Ginny and Pansy without Draco, he'd have a cow, and if she told the three of them without Harry, then _he'd_ be upset, and if she told those four without the rest of the group, people would end up feeling left out. No, it was far simpler to just tell them all together.

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a fake Galleon which she and Paul had charmed to sent messages to members of the Quad League. She alerted them to a meeting, set for directly after supper, and started to make her way to the Library, where she planned to tutor another Slytherin - a second year boy - until Potions class. The tutoring session went as expected, and after collecting her things, Hermione began making her way down to her dad's class.

Surprisingly, on her way down the Potions Corridor, she spotted her dad walking up to Minerva with a look of determination on his face, and opted to hide behind a stone knight to eavesdrop. She had a pretty good idea what was about to happen, and she wasn't about to miss it for the world.

He flicked his wand in her direction. "You may want to brush up on your cleaning charms, Minerva," he stated.

She frowned, not understanding. "Severus, what are you talking about?"

"That was my daughter's lipstick on your collar, was it not?" Severus asked point blank.

Minerva blushed furiously. "Severus, I…"

"I do not, and I mean I _do not_ , need the details," he snapped. "I already knew how she felt. Have you taken complete leave of your senses? I pray that you had enough wisdom to at least wait until she turned seventeen…"

"I swear to you, I did not touch her until she was seventeen," Minerva promised. She left out the bit that the first touches were the _day_ Hermione had turned seventeen, though that had just been a few kisses so Hermione didn't hold the omission against her lover.

"You hurt her, I'll kill you," Severus stated seriously. Hermione grinned, not surprised but loving how protective he was. She hoped, one day, she could be half the parent that he didn't have to be.

Minerva's response surprised her, however. "Severus, if I hurt her, I wouldn't even defend myself. I don't know what the bloody hell she sees in me, and Merlin knows that yes, it's beyond insane that I get involved with her, but damn me to hell I _love her_. I don't want to cause her any pain. Not anymore."

Severus looked satisfied. "Very well. In any case, it's not likely that I'd need to anyhow. She'd get to you before I even knew something had happened. Still, it's a thing I'm supposed to do; threaten the life of my daughter's significant other. Are you going to marry her?"

"I don't imagine she'd have it any other way," Minerva replied with a sigh of defeat. "Though can we not rush my becoming your daughter-in-law?"

Hermione and Severus, yards apart, shared an identical, maniacal grin. "Good day to you, _Miss_ McGonagall," he replied, rubbing salt in the proverbial wound.

She waited until Minerva had disappeared down the corridor, and Severus had entered the classroom, before she joined him and the other seventh year Potions students in class. Draco didn't resist the urge to comment on how freshly shagged she appeared to be, and she confided to him that she was planning to come out to the rest of the group this evening. Draco passed a note over to Harry, several desks over, to report, and the Gryffindor offered a thumbs up in support before turning his attention back to Severus.

Class passed without further incident, and then after Charms class, it was time for supper in the Great Hall. After the meal, Hermione and the Quad League made their way to the Room of Requirement, which had become their normal meeting place.

"Alright, Hermione," Pansy prompted. "What's going on? You didn't state a reason for the meeting today."

"I have something to tell all of you," she explained. "And I didn't want to tell you one at a time because that would get exhausting so I just called a meeting."

Neville spoke up. "Whatever it is, we're here for you, okay?"

She smiled, remembering Harry's comment about how the group had promised to always support her, no matter what secrets she kept. While she wasn't ready to tell them she was muggleborn yet, she knew that conversation was coming soon as well. Surprisingly, she felt at peace with the idea in a way she hadn't ever before. These were her friends, and they loved her, not her blood. They loved Hermione, and not just _Snape_ , as she was officially now called.

That said, the notion of informing her parents that she'd legally been adopted by Severus still sent chills down her spine. The idea of telling her parents she was shagging her Professor, who was a woman, didn't offer warm and fuzzies either. Alas, that was another conversation, for another day.

"Thanks, Neville," Hermione said to her Gryffindor friend. "Now, some of you already know bits and pieces of this, but the beginning of the story comes to the point of a single fact. I'm gay."

No one looked surprised, and most of them were nodding in encouragement.

"I would say ' _duh'_ ," Natalie smirked. "But I'm not sure if that's dismissive and I want you to know I've got your back and it doesn't make me love you any less."

Hermione grinned at the Hufflepuff. "I figured you guys had worked that much out. Okay, part two. My depression last year, was more or less because of…"

"McGonagall," said at least half the group. Okay, so no one was really surprised about that part either.

Ginny was bouncing by now. "Did ya get the girl, 'Mione?" she wanted to know.

With a bright smile, she nodded. "I got the girl."

Congratulations were offered by every single member of the Quad League, and Harry nearly hugged her to death. Draco beat her to the punch of her final point - that those of them on the homework strike would need to start doing homework again - which resulted in a number of groans, mostly from the Gryffindors. It turned out that Paul had kept doing the homework as a study tactic, and simply not turned it in, so he wasn't worried at all. Typical Ravenclaw.

The group stayed in the room, discussing their respective love lives among other things, for another couple of hours. They had been nearly ready to close up for the evening and head back to their respective dorms, when Harry let out a scream of pain and collapsed on the floor, clawing furiously at his forehead.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted, rushing over to her friend. "Harry, what is it?"

"It hurts," he moaned. "My scar. Something's wrong!"

"Go get Madam Pomfrey!" Draco urged Pansy, knowing that of the group, she was the fastest runner.

She was out the door a second later, and returned with the mediwitch in a few minutes. Harry was still writhing on the floor, though Draco and Hermione had pinned his arms down after blood starting trickling down his face, the teen's fingernails doing a fine job at trying to rip out the source of the pain.

A few minutes, and a number of Potions later, Harry lay there unconscious, and Madam Pomfrey let out a sigh. "Miss Snape, please get your father and bring him to the Hospital Wing. And stop and get Professor McGonagall - she's Head of his House - as well. Mister Malfoy, Mister Longbottom, if you two would kindly help me get Mister Potter moved, the rest of you need to return to your dorms. The Headmaster will meet us in the Hospital Wing. I've done as much as I can…"

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